Apocalypse Please
by chriscolfers
Summary: Days went by, and Blaine Anderson awaited the inevitable. The moment where the world would cease to exist before his very eyes. On the 3rd of March, 2012, his life was about to change for good. What happens when your town is invaded with creatures that look innocent? What happens when they threaten to wipe out your town? Eventual Klaine, character death.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Just a random idea I had. This is just the prologue; so, naturally, this would be short. But I'm already working on the first chapter, so.. yeah! That's pretty nifty.**

* * *

Blaine Anderson was seventeen years old when he had his first kiss.

Blaine Anderson was seventeen years old when he began senior year.

Blaine Anderson was seventeen years old when his hometown collapsed before his very eyes.

It was sudden, when the small town of Lima had taken a turn for the worst. Nobody had expected evil to pounce on them so drastically. And there was no signals. No warnings.

Just death.

Luckily, Blaine was prepared. In fact, his whole family was. His parents believed in conspiracy theories; and they had always told that something would happen to the world. Something powerful would consume humans, and the world would be overtaken.

People thought that James and Elizabeth Anderson were strange people. They didn't understand how they could just let their eldest son run off to Hollywood with big dreams at the mere age of eighteen. Or how they could accept their son's sexuality so easily. Like there was no big deal about it.

But this was Lima. There were many homophobes, waiting for someone to flaunt their 'fairy dust' around the town, to light under the match of their sheer, and un-necessary, hatred. Even if there was any other homosexuals in the town, they would at least be smart enough to hide away from the public with it.

Yet, there Blaine Anderson was. Out and proud, like there wasn't a problem. He paid the price, of course. Excessive bullying; resulting in broken bones and intensive therapy, with the threat of depression washing over him.

It had begun when he was a small freshman; entering the crowded hallways of high school, dressed in a pink bowtie and bright orange pants. People knew with a single glance at his clothing. He had been pulled by the collar, and slammed into a locker.

James Anderson had pulled his son aside after a day of torture, sitting him at the dining table. And that's when he began to explain that the people were useless. That they would all be dead one day, and that Blaine hadn't needed to waste any time on him.

Tales had been told of some higher being coming over to wash away the hatred, and the innocent had to prepare for this so-called '_apocalypse_.'

Blaine wasn't sure what to think of it. At first, he thought it was a pile of nonsense. He wondered where these assumptions had come from; if, perhaps, his father had been drunk at the time. But the words were repeated again, and then began the preparations.

It was later in his freshman year that James and Elizabeth had began to realise that Blaine had acted different. He would barely eat, sleep and he sucked the life out of every room. And, that's when they began their plan.

They advised him that he needed an outlet to take out his problems on. A way to get back at the world for all the wrong it had given him. Blaine took up boxing, visiting his local gym everyday for an hour, as his parents encouraged him. They would get him to his boiling point, repeating the insults Blaine had told them about

"_Faggot!_"

"_Why don't you go and drop dead?_"

Blaine would punch his bag with tears in his eyes, wishing the hurt and the pain would stop. But, the feeling of hurting something was quite relieving, much to his surprise. His fists would slam against it, the impact always sending shivers down his spine. His heart would thud violently in his chest, he would pant with exhaustion. These things never affected Blaine; it only reminded him that he was still breathing and alive. That he was still fighting an ongoing war.

James had decided to introduce his son to a whole new world of shooting; taking him to deserted places to let Blaine observe how to use the many guns that he owned. Pistols, rifles, you could name it. James Anderson was high in society, knowing ways to obtain certain equipment.

With every day that passed, James would talk about being prepared for the war that would happen. And it left Blaine on edge.

Blaine Anderson began to lose his sanity in junior year, as the things he heard became drilled into his mind. He would be on the edge, waiting for the inevitable. He distanced himself from friends; as he was told that people would drag him down. He wouldn't escape fast enough, and he would end up dead.

He was taught to trust nobody.

He maintained his good grades, he stayed in the school glee club and he would stop to talk to people every now and then. But people could tell that something had happened to him. Even his bullies began to get a little cautious of him, keeping away from him more than usual. Blaine Anderson had from the sparkling fairy to the creepy, gay freak.

Maybe it was because he mumbled lectures and information he gathered, from his father, under his breath in class. Or it was the fact that he carried a Swiss army knife with him at all times. But it was all for a reason. He wanted to survive, by any means necessary.

The Anderson family was crazy; with their beliefs and all. And many people had thought that Blaine was the only sane one in his family. But those assumptions had been long gone. Now he was one of them.

Little did the people know that they were, indeed, correct with their beliefs. But who would have known?


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: If you're not good with gory stuff, I suggest that you should probably turn away.**

**Also, minor character death.**

* * *

**3rd of March, 2012.**

James Anderson had a strange feeling about this day. He hadn't felt this way before; like something massive would happen. There was an anticipation in the air that he couldn't quite put his finger on. So he gathered Elizabeth and Blaine, and they all joined their hands together.

He squeezed his wife's hand, turning to her with dark eyes. "Today could be it. What we've been waiting for..." A hushed silence came among the three, as they all tried to wrap their heads around it. What if he was right? What if their years of waiting had come down to this day? To this very moment?

Elizabeth looked back at him with a panicked expression, closing her eyes along with her son. "James, are we to worry?" She asked, tightening her grip on his hand. Blaine didn't really understand why her tone was so formal, but he said nothing, as he kept his eyes shut tight.

"No, not at all." He responded, keeping his voice serious. He looked towards Blaine, taking his hand out of his son's tight grasp to place it on his shoulder. "Blaine, bring the pistol to school."

Blaine looked up in surprise, opening his eyes. He was going to bring the gun to school? What if he was caught? The teachers could get the wrong idea and think he may commit a murder. And then, God knew if he was going to make it out before anything happens. "I can't." He choked out, receiving a glare in response. They already found his knife on several occasions, and he had been sent to the principal's office as a result. Luckily, he had been able to convince them it was for a woodwork project. He had no idea how he got away with that lie; apparently, the staff were just too lazy to deal with anything.

But a gun was a whole different story. It was a _gun_.

James took a deep breath, wondering why he was questioning the plan. He had thought everything out quite clearly; and now Blaine was having cold feet. "You can, and you will. No questions. Do you want to die?" He snapped, glaring at Blaine.

"Don't say that, James..."

"Hush." James stopped Elizabeth from speaking, continuing to focus on his son. "Do you want to become a rotting piece of flesh in the ground? To be a coward?" He paused, seeing Blaine shake his head quickly.

"N-no." He stuttered, feeling more than nervous. His stomach churned, and he felt like he was going to be sick. But, no, he had to get through this day. Surely, this would be fine. They had thoroughly prepared for when it would happen. So why did he feel like all hope was lost?

He continued with the scolding, still in disbelief that Blaine would hesitate in going through with the plan. "To die a coward? Do you want that?" When James didn't get a response, he raised his voice a little more. "I said, do you want that? Answer me, Blaine."

Blaine trembled a little at the rough grip on his shoulder, trying to muster up the courage to say something. "I-but... Okay." He sniffled, and slumped his shoulders in relief as the pressure disappeared. Blaine was already stressed out enough, he didn't need his fathers disappointment to add onto the pile.

"Good." James closed the discussion, and continued to explain the plan. "So, Blaine will take the 9mm to his classes. Elizabeth," he turned to her again, and she made a humming sound to alert him that she was listening. "You and I will stay here with the rifles and we will sit in waiting. If the situation is worse than we thought, we stay in the bomb shelter. Understood?" Elizabeth nodded, and Blaine shuddered at the term.

They would finally have a use for it. His father had decided to have one installed for safety precautions, but that was for wars. Was this really going to be a war of such huge proportions that they would need a bomb shelter? Obviously so.

"Blaine?" He snapped his head in his father's direction, waiting for what he would say. "If this happens while you are at school, I want you to stay there unless you are able to get home. But, if the streets are unsafe, you cannot come back." James instructed, and Blaine left his mouth hanging open.

No, he wasn't going to be left, was he? Was his father telling him not to come home if there was danger? How was Blaine going to be safe? That school was far from safe. Principal Figgins was cheap and barely had any security, counting Coach Sylvester as his security guard. Who knew how long it'd be until she could be hurt? And then all hell would break loose; the school would be vulnerable to anything and the world would cease to exist.

Blaine didn't want that.

He was about to protest, parting his lips until he saw the glare his father shot him. Blaine stayed quiet, although there was a lump forming in his throat. He felt dizzy, imagining the many ways that he could, very well, perish. Starved, stabbed, ripped to shreds. The possibilities became worse and worse with every thought, making him shiver.

James let go of them, walking over to the living room cabinet. He pulled open one of the drawers, pulling out the pistol. He made his way back over, holding the gun out, waiting for Blaine to take it. "Make sure the safety is on." He advised, as Blaine's shaky hands grabbed the gun. He shoved it in the pocket of his jacket. Luckily, nobody could see the outline of it, so he thought he could possibly get away with sneaking it in.

* * *

Blaine walked into the choir room, sitting in the very corner of the room at the back, distancing himself from the entrance. The school day had nearly finished, but Blaine wasn't about to take any risks now. People gave him uneasy looks as his eyes remained glued to the door, waiting for something. Anything.

"Blaine?"

A voice came, startling Blaine as he turned to face someone from the glee club. He knew that face anywhere; those eyes and that voice. That _stunning_ voice.

Kurt Hummel was giving him a concerned look, looking at him through long eyelashes. Blaine felt his stomach flip a little as he was sucked into the pools of cyan. The way Kurt had spoken his name, with such compassion, it distracted him from any disasters. Blaine gave a quick attempt at a smile, blinking once before casting a look towards the door. "Um, hi." He held up his hand to make an awkward wave, before placing it back in his lap.

Kurt followed his look to the door, quirking an eyebrow. "Are you waiting for someone?" He said, capturing Blaine's eyes in his again.

"Ye- no." Blaine mentally cursed, knowing he probably sounded like an idiot. Should he have warned Kurt of upcoming danger? What if he just left him and thought he was delusional?

Many people would've thought that, if he was being perfectly honest with himself.

Kurt gave a slow nod, pulling up a chair beside him. "So.. how's studying for exams going?" He asked, trying to make small talk. Blaine appreciated the effort; and as much as he would've loved to sit and converse with Kurt, he couldn't. He had to be alert, for all of them. "I swear, it's like the teachers are trying to torture us. Of course, I can remember things from the beginning of the year, but not in complete detail." He gave a shrug, slumping his shoulders a little, yet maintaining his perfect posture.

Blaine remained quiet, staring at the door. It wasn't until a few minutes later that the sound of Kurt's voice had stopped. He turned to see Kurt, looking annoyed. "Were you even listening?" He asked, waiting for an answer, the kind tone disappeared.

How could Blaine explain that he was too busy? It looked like he was just sitting down; so it would've come off as an excuse to not talk to him. Even if he would've loved to talk to Kurt, Blaine knew that that wouldn't be a legitimate excuse. "Y-yes.."

"What did I just say?"

"Um..." Blaine trailed off, trying to think of what Kurt could possibly talk about. "S-something about New York?" He guessed, mentally crossing his fingers. Whenever he passed Kurt, there was always a mention of the following things; New York, exams, fashion, music and disapproving Rachel's attitude or fashion sense.

Kurt held his glare, smoothing down a crease in his shirt. "I was actually talking about the possibilities for the assignment for this week in glee club, but I knew you weren't paying attention." Blaine could see the hurt in his eyes, and he bit down on his lip. "Someone finally talks to you, and you just push them away. Yeah, great. Have fun being all alone; I hope it goes well for you." Kurt stood up from his chair and walked back over to where Mercedes and Rachel had sat.

As he walked off, Blaine was sure that he had heard him mutter "_I don't even talk about New York _that_ much, god._"

Blaine sat there, dumbfounded. What was that supposed to mean? He shook it off, facing the door again, twitching his hand towards the gun in his pocket as he saw a shadow. Instead of any dangers, Mr. Will Schuester walked in, and gave a bright smile to the class.

"Hey, guys!"

Blaine grumbled a hello back; shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He shook off the other thoughts of Kurt, keeping his hand in his pocket, waiting and waiting.

Artie's voice piped up, as he pushed his glasses to the back of his nose. "Um, Mr. Schue? Half of us aren't even here.." He pointed out, as everyone besides Blaine looked around them, seeming quite confused. "Sam, Finn, Sugar, Puck and Brittany; I haven't seen them since second period."

Mercedes looked at Santana, who seemed a little bothered by it. "Santana, you'd know where she was, right?" She asked, and regretted it instantly, by the way the Cheerio gave her a bitchy stare.

"How the hell would I know?" Santana shrugged, returning her eyes to her nail file, before showing an expression of weakness. "She goes everywhere, there's no telling where she could be." She gave a suggestive wink, attempting to make it in a light tone. But when she realised it didn't succeed, she suddenly acted as if the nail file was the most interesting thing she had ever come across.

Will looked dazed, staring into nothing; trying to figure out where they could be. "Well, they're all involved in Cheerios and football? Maybe it's practice for both?" He suggested, before everyone shook their heads.

"Sugar's not a Cheerio." Most people seemed to yell out, throwing Will off a little.

"Thank _god_." Santana shivered, horrified at the thought of Sugar even wearing the uniform. "I can put up with her in here, even if she can't sing at all. But if she even thinks about putting on the polyester outfit and screeching out cheers with her nasally tone, I _will _be done with her."

A few people chuckled here and there, but everyone seemed like they were trying to figure out where they were. But, soon enough, they all gave up, like always. Will turned to the whiteboard, as others sat expectantly, waiting for their topic. "You all know with Vocal Adrenaline that they are one big, destructive force to be reckoned with. This year, with Jesse St. James leading them, who knows what they'll do?"

Rachel sighed, letting her head rest in her hands. "Knowing him, it'll be over-dramatic and full of immense passion." A few nods were given here and there. "You guys weren't there to see when he sang Bohemian Rhapsody. I was, and let me tell you, Jesse has the qualities of a star. I would know, of course. But he'll do everything to make sure that they continue the dynasty that _is _Vocal Adrenaline."

"Wow, what a nice pep talk." Quinn rolled her eyes, resting her shoulders in her lap, tapping her fingers against the side of her face. "That makes us feel like winners already, bravo."

"I'm just telling it how it i-"

"Quinn, Rachel." Will scolded, before grabbing a marker from the top of the piano. "Like I was saying, they will be big. But we need to be more than that." He grinned, walking over to the whiteboard. "We need to be..." He wrote the word in big letters, drawing lines underneath to emphasise it.

_Epic._

Rachel and Mercedes high-fived, letting out a cheer with a few other people; who giggled and bounced in their seats. "So the assignment is to find an epic song. I'm sure you all have some ideas in mind for it, already."

"Nobody else will be doing 'My Heart Will Go On' so if anyone was thinking, or even about to think, of performing that, you will be highly mistaken." Rachel announced, standing for the brief moment as she spoke, before settling herself back in her seat.

"Thanks, Rac-"

Everyone stopped, hearing a shrill scream coming from far away. Blaine finally sat up, reaching for his pocket.

_"Don't come near me!"_

He jumped out of his chair, as everyone gave him dumbfounded looks. "Where do you think you're going, Blaine?" Will gaped, pulling the student by the arm, trying to convince him to stay. "I'm not letting you go outside if it's dangero-"

"This is what has to happen." Blaine mumbled, his hands shaking as he headed out the door. People called out his name, begging for him to come back. He heard footsteps running behind him, before a familiar voice came up.

Mike Chang was following him, tugging on his sweater, trying to pull him back. "Blaine, what are you doing?" He asked, and Blaine nearly smiled at the attempt to stop him. Mike was a really nice guy, from what he had shown him and everyone else. It was too kind of him to try and help after a few conversations; it gave him more of a reason to try protecting him.

"Don't freak out, okay?" Blaine asked, turning around to see him nod. He pulled out the pistol, and Mike clasped a hand over his mouth.

"B-Blaine? What are you doing with that?"

Blaine sighed, seeing Mike take a step back from him. This really didn't help his case of being the school freak. He kept his voice down to a whisper, in case anything came along. "Mike, listen, my father had a feeling something would happen today. He told me to bring this," he waved the gun in the air, watching the other boy flinch; at the gun and at Blaine's reaction to it. Like it was the most casual object he'd seen in his life. "To school, so I could defend myself. Now, I don't even know what we're going to see, but you have to stay behind me. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Bl-"

"I know how to use this, it's not like I'm inexperienced." Blaine scoffed, checking to see if there was still ammo. Once he checked there was enough to last, he placed his hand high on the gun, holding tightly; even if his hands were shaking too much. But he was nervous. This was it; the moment he had been waiting for.

He walked down the hallways, letting Mike flank behind him. Blaine took a shaky breath, his palms beginning to feel damp with unwelcomed fear.

What was he going to get? Was there an axe murderer that wanted to kill the whole town? He didn't know what to expect. There was always the hype about the effect that his father told him about, but never was he told what would actually happen. He swallowed the lump in his throat, walking slowly. He checked the end of the hallway, where the gymnasium was; looking left, right and center. "Okay, come through here." He beckoned Mike forward with his hand, letting him continue to rush behind as he had been.

And then there was a noise. It sounded... Well, Blaine couldn't quite put a finger on it. It sounded, almost, like a growl. Like a hungry growl, actually.

Scratch that, make that two noises.

_More _than two noises.

...holy shit, how many noises _were _there?

Were there wolves? Bears? Or some specie of deranged animal running about? Mike gasped, and Blaine swore he could hear a sob escape him. "Mike.." Blaine turned around, putting a hand on his shoulder, speaking as quietly as he could. "You're a good guy, and it was nice knowing you. I.. I wish I had gotten to know you more."

Mike looked at him through eyes, blurred with unshed tears, catching a breath. "Why are you talking like that? Like it's the end?" He asked, sounding defiant. Obviously, Mike had some hope in surviving. But with these odds, and those strange noises escaping the gymnasium, it wasn't looking too well. "It's not the end.. w-we're too young to die."

"Who knows?" Blaine shrugged, dropping the conversation as he walked through to the entrance of the gymnasium with baited breath. There was _several _noises; and he was beginning to feel scared now. He leaned his shoulders over his toes, crouching as he turned to face something that he certainly couldn't have expected.

"Oh. My. _God._"

Parts of bodies were scattered over the floor, blood trailing around them. People- _were _they even human?- leaning over them with hungry looks. They looked innocent enough, but the way that they held these people in their hands, crushing them up into mangled pieces. Like a child with play-doh; that's how simple and easy it looked.

No, they weren't human.

Blaine held up his gun, his heart thumping in his ears, as he aimed for one of these things. When he was as close to the head as he could get, he smoothly pulled the trigger, letting the sound ring throughout the gymnasium. The shot landed right in its head, off-coloured blood splattering out of it and the body fell to the floor with a thud. He studied the others, trying to figure out what they were.

Blood was stained on their clothes and bits of ruined flesh was stuck in their nails, from what Blaine could see. The sound of Mike retching in the background meant nothing as he focused in on them. And that's when he saw a sight that could've made him vomit then and there.

A _'thing'_ was clawing at someone's head, ripping their skin apart with their bare hands. And that someone.. Blaine knew them. That was Sam Evans. He had grown to like him as a friend, and he always pulled through for the glee club.

But Sam Evans was dead.

And was that _Finn Hudson's _head in the corner over there?

Blaine froze, understanding what these things were.

_Zombies_.

The creatures turned to him and Mike with hungry eyes, causing Blaine register where he was. He was about to die, and was probably going to be ripped to shreds along with Mike Chang.

But not without a fight.

Blaine gave a challenging smile, holding the gun up to eye level, smirking. "Come and get me, you bastards."


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: ****I feel like this chapter is pretty cheesy, but read on. Hopefully, I've done okay. Although, I lost 2,000 words in the process, due to my laptop freezing up. But I learnt my lesson; SAVE YOUR WORK!**

** So, just to clear things up:**

**People in the choir room (aka, the people who are still alive that we know of): ****Quinn, Santana, Rachel, Kurt, Mercedes, Artie, Tina, Will.**

**Warnings: Minor character death, gore, killing zombie creatures. Just the usual. (This will be for every chapter, to be honest. It's a zombie apocalypse, what do you expect?)**

* * *

**Chapter 2.**

What was left of the New Directions sat in fear, listening to the sounds of cries for help and the bullets that echoed throughout the school. They heard it all. Yet, there they sat. Frozen in their seats like helpless, little victims, too busy dwelling in their own fright to help the heroes with their quest for glory.

Kurt hated feeling like this; all defenceless.

He had spent most of his life feeling like this; scared for himself, but he couldn't do anything about it without there being some sort of consequence. His mothers car accident, the bullying, it was always like this. He couldn't do anything, just like now. Even though, he desperately wanted to do something.

But he had to face the facts. Whatever was going on out there, he wouldn't be able to handle it.

Someone was out there with a _gun_.

The glee club had come to the conclusion that there was some kind of deranged murderer lurking about in the school. It was the only thing that they could possibly think of; even if the noises sounded a little odd to be affiliated with it. But what else was possible?

"How many people are getting hurt?" Quinn asked, and even though everyone knew that there was obviously more than one person, there was no answer.

Nobody wanted to face the painful reality of the situation.

If they did, it would make it real to them.

They listened to the shots ringing out, people shivering every time it was heard. "Mike..." Mercedes sniffled, her voice quiet, filled with nerves. "What if he's dead?" She asked, receiving a cry from Tina as she launched into Rachel's arms. The brunette rocked her back and forth, shushing her with blurry, watery eyes.

"But I _love _him!" She wailed, gasping as she clutched at her chest. Her heart felt as if it had been broken into millions of pieces. "H-he can't be dead. _Please_, he can't."

Will walked over to her, resting a hand on her shoulder, whilst bowing his head down. From the bullets that had been fired, it seemed unlikely he would come out of it alive. This made him begin to think of the others that hadn't shown up to glee club. Like, Finn. Will shed a tear at the thought that Finn had died.

The boy that resembled so much of him, who had so much promise. He shook his head, knowing this wasn't right. Nobody deserved this kind of thing done to them.

Kurt frowned, feeling a little confused as to why the other boy hadn't been acknowledged. "W-what about Blaine?" He asked, receiving a few annoyed looks from people; some that said they had remembered Blaine went with Mike, and others said that they didn't understand _why _he would be missed.

"It's just Blaine." Quinn looked down as she mumbled the words, crossing her legs. Most of the others nodded in agreement.

Only three, including Kurt, stared at her with their mouths agape. Had she really brushed off Blaine's existance so casually?

Blaine wasn't just another person to him. In junior year, _Blaine _was the one that helped them pull through during Sectionals with a pep talk when Finn came down with a nasty cold. _Blaine _was the one that helped them win with his amazing rendition of '_Not Like The Movies_.'

Sure, nobody thought he was important and people always thought of him as the creepy guy that sits alone in class. But he was still a _person._

He still mattered.

Kurt shook his head in disbelief, his body tensing up. "That is an _extremely _rude thing to say, Quinn." He snapped, resting his clasped hands in his lap as she rolled her eyes at his comment.

"So, you're going to get angry at me with, who knows what, going on?" She retorted, with her perfectly manicured eyebrows raised in annoyance. "I'd say that you should probably let it be because we're all going to be relying on each other, pretty soon, actually."

He gave his best attempt at a glare, shooting her an icy look as he scoffed at her words. "Don't act like I'm over-reacting and that you're perfectly innocent about this. _You're _the one who was rude, and now you're also saying we need to work together?" He paused, a fierce edge to his voice that he hadn't heard in a long time. "You're a hypocrite, Quinn. Did you know that?"

"How dare you even-"

"_Stop it!_" Will yelled over the top of them, silencing them both. "Both of you can stop it, _right now!_"

Santana laughed, resting back in her seat, "Lady on lady? This is something I gots to see." She smirked, ignoring the outraged looks from everyone. "Quinnifer, you should touch his hair. That'll piss him off."

"If you even _think _about doing that, I will-"

"You will what, Kurt?"

"You both can't do _anything _or Principal Figgins would-" Rachel began to say, before stopping mid-sentence, realising how little truth there was to her words. What if he was dead too? "Well, when things go back to normal." She ran her hands through her smooth, dark hair, looking a little queasy.

Kurt gave her a comforting look, knowing what she meant by that. "Who knows when it'll go to normal? I mean, we don't even know what's going on." He glanced at his shoes, letting the silence consume them all. It wasn't awkward; it was the fact that everyone was too busy thinking to talk. "Um, s-speaking of which, I wonder how Blaine and Mike are going?"

* * *

Well, _shit_.

Blaine wiped a bead of sweat from his face, swiping his tongue against his dry, cracked lips. This wasn't supposed to be so hard. The worst possible conclusion he had come to was that him and Mike would both perish, and the zombies would continue their rampage.

He had killed most of them; turns out there was about thirty or so in the gymnasium itself. It was like a riot of these creatures, all hungry for his flesh and bones; and it frightened him to death. And now, five remained. But, that wasn't the worst part.

Those things had stolen Mike in their cold, dead arms; even though Blaine had tried hard to save him. He had yelled for him to stay back many times, but Mike thought he could try and help. His attempts were futile against them. But, there was one thing that had surprised him. Blaine expected them to kill him and be done with it, moving onto him. Never had he thought that they would keep him alive.

Or whatever a person's definition of alive was these days.

They had lunged at Mike, as Blaine yelled out his name in a plea, biting a chunk out of the crook of his neck. The scream that Mike let out gave Blaine goosebumps, and he shivered, letting out a plea in protest. They didn't stop.

Although, it was very unlikely that they would've.

Their objective was to kill. They wouldn't stop for a worthless, crummy human like himself.

Mike had undergone a transformation of sorts; his skin was pale, with an added tint of barely visible gray. And, Blaine noticed that the colour of his blood had turned three shades darker. Although this was a tragedy, he could finally tell the difference between a human and a zombie. Or, at least, better than before.

Maybe the whole hovering-over-a-body thing was an obvious sign too.

Blaine was taken aback by the whole scene that he hadn't realised that one of them was coming towards him. All he focused on was the sound of Mike's choked screams as he struggled on the floor. The creatures retreated further from him, and turned to Blaine with loud snarls.

He snapped his head towards the direction of them, realising just what was going on. Blaine cocked the gun back quickly. The bullet shot from the barrel with a crack; a sound that used to make Blaine jump in fear. It was sickening to know that he was used to the sound, but this was how he lived. He was used to crazy things.

He was the school freak, anyways.

Once he had shot the other four, he turned around, about to leave; before hearing a growl. He spun back towards the direction of the noise, to find Mike standing up. His eyes were a near black, Blaine watching him with curious eyes. He looked like Mike; only with a few minor adjustments.

For example, a large chunk of skin in his neck with missing, and some kind of organ was dangling from his thigh. Along with how he was missing his right hand, the bloodied bone sticking out, a disgusting sight to look at.

Blaine had only just realised he had to kill the person -thing, it was a thing now- in front of him. He had to kill Mike.

The thought of it made him feel sick. How was he supposed to murder someone he had grown to know so well? What if Blaine thought about how he was already dead? Would that make it easier?

It didn't, though. Of course not.

But Blaine couldn't let feelings get in the way of these things. If they did, he would be weak. This weakness would result in his death.

And his friends would no longer have any protection, through his pocket knife or his gun. They'd die with him, and the zombies would probably move on to everyone else in the town.

Hell, at this rate, they'd take over the country.

Blaine didn't want anyone to do; not from the glee club, or from the town. And, if he was being honest, he really didn't want Kurt to die. Not because he was totally in love with him or anything, no.b Those eyes that he had seen thousands of times, they would no longer open again with such life. They would be replaced with glassy stares; or worse, swirls of charcoal. The image caused a lump to form in his throat; but also gave him the motivation to continue.

Kurt was always going to be his motivation.

Why? He didn't know. But he wasn't complaining; it made him fight harder, and it made him want to keep going. He wasn't giving up any time soon.

Mike took a sharp step forward, feet dragging along the floor. "You wouldn't." He said, and Blaine stared in disbelief. Zombies could talk now? Oh, come on. _Really?_

Weren't they supposed to be brain-dead creatures with an undescribable need to kill?

No. That'd be too easy, wouldn't it?

Blaine stiffened, taking a step away. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to something like this. Speaking made them seem more human; it made it harder to kill, and he was already guilty enough for what he was about to do.

The creature sensed his discomfort, and edged closer. "You should give up and let me just.. just one bite. I'll do _anything_. Anything you want, Blaine." Mike smiled, lop-sided and too cruel to be sincere, causing Blaine to scoff. Anything? Something in those bites must've fucked him up, because Mike was straight. He was in love with Tina, and from what he had heard, they had done it over the previous summer. More than once. Also, the fact that they couldn't keep their hands off each other during classes and in the choir room.

So, something was _definitely_ up.

Mike continued on with his attempt at an 'explanation' as to why Blaine would be better off a zombie than a human. "People would stop seeing you as a freak, and.. who knows? You could get your revenge." He grinned, causing Blaine to look away. Shit, he hit a sore spot there. Of course, Blaine wanted revenge. But not through death. Not even he was that cruel. "And you feel invincible, like nothing can stop you."

"This can."

Blaine pulled the trigger, sending the bullet flying into his forehead. Mike flopped to the ground with a thud, with no traces of movement or life. Blaine sighed in relief, but felt the guilt wash through him when he saw Mike's dark, soulless eyes staring at the roof.

Before he could walk over to examine the body, taking satisfaction in the silence of the room, he heard a voice come from the doorway.

"Oh god.."

Blaine spun around to face Mercedes, who had her hand clasped over her mouth in shock. She stared at the gun in his hand, refusing to look at the dead bodies around him.

She clutched the frame of the door for support, looking at him with wide eyes. "You're the murderer, aren't you?" Mercedes shook her head before he could ask what she was talking about, gasping at something she had realised. "You're carrying a g-gun; of course, you're the murderer."

"What murderer-"

"Look at all the people you've killed. Don't you feel any guilt? Taking these innocent lives for enjoyment?" She yelled, storming over to him. He just stood there, waiting for her to shut up so he could correct her. "No wonder you're the school freak, you've just been planning people's deaths. You. Sicken. Me."

Blaine hated when people referred to him as the freak. Sure, he barely had any friends, or never really socialised with people. And, okay, he talked to himself a lot. But he hated being labelled as a freak.

He was different, and slightly insane; but not a freak.

He sighed, running a hand through his gelled hair; no doubt, messing it up. "I'm not a murderer. Yes, I killed them, but-" She rolled her eyes, and he got defensive. "Hold on, let me finish. Look at them, and then, look at me. What's the difference?"

"What the hell are you on?" Mercedes asked, but she looked around anyways. She noticed how they were missing parts of their body, and how organs were splattered over the floor. "Oh my god, you're a _cannibal!_"

Blaine groaned in frustration, walking over to one of the bodies. He pulled up some Cheerio he had never met before, holding her up with his body. She flinched at the sight, holding a hand to her stomach. "It's a fucking zombie!" He yelled, grabbing its arm, only to see it disconnect from its body.

They were delicate. That saved him a lot of effort, then.

Mercedes shook her head in confusion. Zombies? Yeah, this boy was as high as a kite. "Look, I don't know what you've been smoking, but you need to back off before you hurt anyone else."

Blaine glared at her, wishing she would co-operate. "Look at their skin." He held up the arm, throwing it to her. She caught on instinct, making a face, before examining it closely. "And look at her eyes." He pulled the eyelid open to reveal her glassy, dark eyes. "Tell me that they're human."

Her mouth was agape as she squinted, trying to look for anything deceiving. But there was nothing. He told the truth, and nothing else. She gulped, looking away.

The face she made was enough for him to know that she finally understood what he meant. He threw the body away to the floor, watching it fall with a sickened feeling of how he just _touched_ that thing. Blaine shuddered, looking back up to Mercedes. "As for how I have the gun, I'll explain later to everyone, okay?" He was glad when she nodded, and he walked over to the equipment cupboard. Thankful that it was unlocked, he opened it and relaxed his shoulders at what he saw.

She cocked her head, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing?" She asked, puzzled as he pulled out a baseball bat.

It was metal, and cold against his fingertips. The bat was heavy, so he proceeded to pull out a wooden one, feeling much lighter and warmer. "We need equipment, don't we?"

* * *

The glee club was reeling from what they had heard.

All they knew was that Mercedes was feeling impatient, and stormed out of the room to see what all the fuss was about. They let her go, knowing she'd bring Mike and Blaine back. If she couldn't, nobody could.

But then they heard Mercedes yelling about how Blaine was a cannibal, and they all gasped.

_How could he?_

They knew he was weird, but for him to be a cannibal?

Tina was crying, as Rachel held her and rubbed circles in her back. From what she was hearing, her boyfriend was dead. And it looked like her best friend was about to join him. "Mike..." She whimpered into Rachel's shoulder, shaking with sobs. "He.. he was my true love."

"I'm here, Tina." Rachel whispered, knowing that she couldn't say it was okay. It was far from okay, if she was being honest. She wasn't going to pretend that Mike was alive and happy, because she needed to face reality. The others seemed to be thinking the same thing, all hushed in a thoughtful silence.

The silence was instantly broken when Mercedes and Blaine walked through the door, carrying a variety of metal and wooden bats. He also carried skipping ropes around his arm, wrapped tighted around him. Everyone screamed, covering themselves with their arms. The two exchanged a confused look, before placing them all on the floor. There was enough for everyone, and even some extra. Blaine nodded, glad that Mercedes told him to get a few more.

Quinn gasped, creasing her eyebrows. "Mercedes, you idiot!" She called out as the girl locked the door, returning to her place next to Blaine. "Why are you near him? He's a _cannibal_, you said so yourself!"

For a split second, Blaine was hurt. Did people really think he was capable of such a dark thing? From the way that they trembled, holding onto each other for support, they really did. Except for two people; Artie and Kurt. Although they seemed a little frightened of what to expect, they just sat there and stared, waiting for an answer. But he swallowed the bad feeling, as he always did with negativity.

Don't feel it and it doesn't matter.

Mercedes took a step forward, trying to manage a calm look. "Um, guys, he's.. he's not a murderer, okay?" She assured them, but the way he had blood stains over his clothes, it didn't help his case. "Blaine, can you explain?"

"Okay." He mumbled, clearing his throat, before addressing the people in the room. "My parents have believed in impossible things." He began, noticing how people began to look a little less scared of him. Their faces weren't covered anymore, and they were no longer holding onto each other as if they were about to die. They were listening; something that Blaine was very grateful for. "They raised me on the belief that some kind of war would happen."

Even Santana was paying attention, and a wash of sympathy flooded their faces. Blaine didn't understand _why_ they were doing thatbut it was fine. "So there's a war?" She asked, her shaky voice lacking the sarcastic tone it usually had, replaced with innocence.

"Sort of, I guess." He admitted, and there was a collective gasp. She didn't think of it as a war, but he had a point. It was them against the creatures. That counted, didn't it? "There's zombies out there. And they're not your typical ones from the movies." Kurt held his head in his hands, shocked by what he heard.

_Zombies_? They were all fucked.

Blaine sensed his hopelessness, and looked at his shoes. "They.. well, they're strange. They have grey skin and.. really dark eyes, like, a near black colour." He shrugged, and Artie shook his head. "They can even talk. Or, at least one did. And.. well, one of them wanted to have sex with me, so something's up."

Santana stifled a laugh; regaining her usual self, finding humour in the darkest of situations. "Do we want to know who?" She joked, before holding up a hand. "Wait, I guess it's Finnocence? I guess Berry turned him gay-"

"Show some respect." Blaine snapped, receiving raised eyebrows from everyone. They all should've expected the answer, but it didn't hit them until that moment when he uttered those words. "He's dead, along with Sam. And.. and Mike." He stopped, trying to remember the other girl that he saw.

What was the rich one called again?

"Also.. one called Candy? Sugar?" He thought aloud, and everyone began to cry.

And, god, it made Blaine feel heartbroken.

The sobs that everyone let out made him realise how close this club was to each other. Mike; a boyfriend to Tina, a friend to everyone. Finn; a brother to Kurt, a boyfriend to Rachel. Sam; another friend to everyone, and.. was he Mercedes' boyfriend? Or was that a past thing? Either way, everyone grieved for their partner or their friend.

Blaine _couldn't _cry.

It didn't feel like he could. In his life, he had cried many times. When he was first shoved a gun at; the way it sounded when he shot it, and how he was told he had to kill people in the future. The thought of harming another human being, it made him sick. It also made him sob into his pillow until he went into a sleep, full of nightmare he never wished to see. Families begging for him to spare them, only to be shot.

When he was cornered in the locker room some time in sophomore year, shoved against them. The sound echoed in his mind daily.

So why the hell wasn't he crying now?

Maybe there was no more tears left to cry.

Everyone held each other, crying into shoulders of people that they couldn't make out. But they needed to be held. And, if they couldn't feel any worse, the sudden realisation dawned upon the glee club.

They were, probably, going to die with them.


End file.
